


It's Enough for Me

by siempreniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Feelings, Fluffy as hell, M/M, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siempreniall/pseuds/siempreniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Direction gets home from tour and Harry finds it a little hard to adjust to, and maybe a little bit lonely without someone by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Enough for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Tenerife Sea" by Ed Sheeran, an unreleased song set for his next album. 
> 
> One time I made Emma talk to me about Narry and she wrote me a paragraph on gradual domesticity and then this was born.

Coming back from tour’s always been weird to Harry. Like going from 60 to 0 with no time to slow down and no restraints to hold you in. It always takes him a bit of time to readapt, to no work schedule and actual free time and a severe lack of burly men with sunglasses that watch his every move. He’d never say he hates touring, never even think it, but there is a readjustment period that he wishes would move a bit faster. It’s not like he’s really got the time anymore, what with their next round of promos for the third album coming in a few short weeks, and the jet lag’s not exactly helping either.

There’s no more structure in his life now that they’re home and he’s actually left to decide what to do _at all times of the day_. Which is a stupid liberty to give him considering he went from teenager whose mom still kissed him goodnight to 1/5ths of a popular, burgeoning boy band in only a few weeks. He kinda missed the gradual acceleration of puberty and maturity and just shot right through it. So he still has to remind himself that Cookie Crisps aren’t a good dinner and that he should shower daily, but he’s working on it.

And it’s the constant speed changes in his life that really throw him through a loop. He would’ve guessed that being a pop star would entail the 24/7, hectic, mind-numbing pace that’s sometimes set on promo dates and tour. It’s just the time in the middle that gets to him. He’s used to being a bit confused about everything, about which city they’re in and what time sound check starts and why the hell he’s holding a purple pen over one of his headshots. Usually it’s Niall that reminds him: Brisbane, 3:00, Bas’s niece wants an autograph for her birthday.

Maybe that’s what wrong, he thinks, that he can’t really call anyone about it. Sure, the boys are probably the only other people in the world who understand, but he supposes that they’re not awake at seven in the morning the day after a 30-hour flight back from Australia.

He wanders into his kitchen after lolling about in bed for half an hour. He’d managed some semblance of sleep, but it wasn’t the best of his life and now he’s stuck wide awake when he’d just like to be dead to the world for a little while longer. There’s a bit of food still left in the cabinets, the boxes and cans that don’t go bad when you decide to jet off to Australia for two months, but it feels a bit bare. It’ll all fix itself whenever he decides to stop off at the store and grab a few things, something maybe to make a homemade pizza if he’s feeling adventurous. And maybe there’ll even be some fans there that will recognize him, ask for a picture as he tries to remember which new bread Niall made him try a few weeks back. To remind him that, yes, he’s back in London and he gets to use his own shower again, but he’s still exciting and eye-catching and worthy of the attention he thinks he’s going mad with.

There’s also the monumental task of figuring out when to see everyone. Nick’s gone off on holiday so he’s useless for the time being and all his friends in uni are a bit swamped with exams and revisions to do anything besides study and drink their stress away. Gem and his dad are alright because they came to visit him, but his mom’s already set up a weekend when she doesn’t have to work so she can come visit him with Robin. He thinks that’ll be a good distraction, getting to show her and his stepdad around the city as if they haven’t been here a million times before. Or maybe they’ll stay in and Harry will wow them with some nice, cozy dinner and he’ll make up one of the guest rooms all nice and pretty. Yeah, it’ll be great.

He’s alone now, though, and that’s not a state of being that he’s really quite used to.  It leaves him stuck inside his thoughts and bored and nothing’s even on TV to watch, for Christ’s sake. Not that touring was always 100% fun, but at least someone was there to share the boring times with.

As Harry tries to figure out if maybe Ed’d be home finally, his cell starts ringing. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he hears it, and his stomach does a little flip when his eyes catch the name on the screen. He’s not quite sure why, hasn’t been for a while now, but maybe he’ll save that inner-dilemma for another time.

“Hey, Ni, what’s up?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Niall’s deep, groggy morning voice comes through, “Christ, you’re actually awake?”

“If you didn’t think I’d be awake then why the hell’d you call?”

“Dunno. Was just hoping, I guess,”

Harry giggles because it’s stupid and it’s Niall, “What do you need then? I’m assuming it’s a very pressing matter if you’re calling this early,”

“Oh yeah,” Niall says, his memory jolted, “Do you know where I packed my phone charger? I used Liam’s on the plane and my phone’s about to die and I can’t remember for the life of me,”

Harry wants to question why in the world Niall’d ask him, but the fact is that he _actually does_ remember where the charger is so, yeah, that’s why.

“You put it the bottom part of your bag, remember? The compartment that zips. So you wouldn’t forget it,”

He doesn’t get an answer but in the background there’s the unmistakable sound of zips and jostling cloth. A soft “yes” breaks through before the phone’s knocked about a bit.

“Christ, thanks. Phone’s about two seconds away from dying and then how would I’ve called you? Life saver, you are,”

“So much for keeping it in a safe spot,”

“Yeah,” Niall breathes out a small giggle, “So why’re you up so early? Going t’work out?”

“Nah, actually I’ve decided to skip today-”

“-That’s the spirit, kid,”

“…but I don’t know what I’m actually going to do. Didn’t sleep too well last night so I just decided to get up. What about you? Why’re you worrying about cords so early? You usually take ages to unpack,”

“Actually haven’t gone to sleep, yet. Tried but it just didn’t come so I decided to not be a lazy arse and just hang everything up in my closet. Did I tell you I got it redone while we were gone? Loads more space, it’s great,”

“No, that sounds nice,”

Niall doesn’t respond and Harry doesn’t know what else to say about the layout of his closet so he decides to grab a glass of water instead. Someone’ll figure out something to say eventually, they’re not really into speaking just for the sake of words. Kinda takes the fun out of having a conversation when you’re just mentioning the weather.

“So, uh, last night it was really weird,” Niall starts, “I got in and everything was the same as I’d left it, of course save for my closet, but it felt less like home? I think we’ve been away too long, starting to go mad I think,”

“Tends to happen when people don’t sleep, dummy,”

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t know it was a bit different. Like different from how I’ve felt after tour legs in the past,”

“How so?”

“Okay, so I got myself in bed thinking I’d actually go to sleep. Crazy, I know. Anyways, I was lying in bed for a bit, eyes closed and everything, before I realized that the light was still on. Because you always took longer to get ready for bed on the bus and you always had the light on longer, you know? Just assumed you’d shut it off, which is mental because you’re across town,”

“You could’ve called me. I would’ve come over and turned that light off so fast,” Harry jokes, but Niall barely notices and instead continues on.

“And after I’d finally realized I wasn’t sleeping any time soon I set out to make myself some tea. It wasn’t until I’d already poured the water that I’d realized I’d set two mugs and I used the tea you like instead of Twinnings,”

“Shit, that reminds me,” Harry starts, “I need to pick up some tea when I get groceries. And that bread, that bread you made me try. What was it called again?”

“Honestly, mate, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,”

“Remember? That one night? Me, you, and Deo went to that restaurant and you got some really good bread. That little restaurant by the bay with all the candles and shit. Ni, come on, you have to remember,”

“Wait, yeah, focaccia,”

“Focaccia,” Harry repeats as he grabs a pad from the counter and starts making a list for the store later, “bananas, dish soap, Cookie Crisp, toilet roll, um…”

“Batteries,” Niall reminds him.

“Batteries, yeah,”

Harry continues on with his list, mumbling out a few words at a time. He doesn’t know why Niall’d care, or why he’s not shutting him up, but sometimes Niall’s mind works in mysterious ways.

“Haz, back to what I was saying,” Niall interrupts.

“Right, yeah, before focaccia,”

“Um, just, my house feels empty,”

“Get a dog,” Harry says off-handedly.

Niall laughs quietly, “I don’t think one’ll help, honestly,” And he sounds so nervous, which is so weird for Harry to hear considering Niall’d probably flirt with the bloody Queen of England if he wasn’t afraid of starting another war.

“Well then what’s the problem? I’m confused,”

“Christ, Harry,” Niall mutters, “Is it just me, then? You don’t feel like, I don’t know, something’s missing?”

Harry stops pacing around his kitchen, thinking through Niall’s words. And he gets it, really does, gets what Niall’s trying to say. But it’s a lot to process and he’s been avoiding thinking about or talking about it and that’s been going well pretty well for him. Niall’s expecting an answer, though, and if Harry has one to give (and he does) then he decides he might as well not be such a chicken shit and say it out loud.

“I miss hearing you breathe when I’m trying to fall asleep,” he admits, and it’s like a punch to the gut to finally admit it, no matter what Niall thinks. It’s something so stupid, so strange, so surprisingly intimate that he’s expecting Niall to hang up immediately. He doesn’t.

His answer is so quiet that Harry barely hears it, “Yeah?”

That’s what sends Harry’s spitting out, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if the dam built by his insecurities has burst.

“I miss you waking me up with tea already made and you drumming whatever song was on the radio into the table as we ate dinner. Tripping over your dumb Supras in the dark. Pulling me out of bed so we could go stargazing at three in the morning. Listening to you play the fucking banjo for, what, three hours that one night? Christ, Niall, I’m so fucked,”

There’s a bit of a pause before Niall says, “So, what you’re trying to say is…”

“What I’m trying to say is that I miss you. A lot. Too much. Maybe just enough, I haven’t figured it out yet,”

And Niall’s quiet again, which Harry thinks is _stupid_ because Niall’s never been quiet. Always stomping around the bus and slamming cabinet doors when he goes to look for something and bellowing out 90’s boy band songs that no one else has ever bothered to remember. Maybe that’s why the silence is crushing him, and it’s all clicking together in his head again.

“So, then, like,” Niall starts, “This Irish band is playing at a place near me next weekend. Wanna go?”

“What,” Harry spurts out.

“Yeah, they’re really good and the venue’s quite small so I don’t think too many people will be there. And Bressie’s got some connections that can get us up into a balcony area and I’m sure it’d be really private up there, no one milling about shooting photos or anything,”

“Niall, wha-”

“Beforehand we can go to this pub around the corner. They’ve got a back room they’ve let me use a few times when I wanted to be alone with someone. Scratch that, I didn’t say that last part. But the food’s good and they’ve got Carlsberg and I think you’d like it. So what d’ya say? Dinner and a show?”

“Niall…” Harry starts again. And he really can’t believe he’s about to say this, that these words are even coming out of his mouth, “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“Of course it’s a fucking date, you git,”

Harry laughs. Like a lot. And he’d be afraid he’s sending the wrong signal if not for Niall joining him on the other line. It’s a lot to take in and maybe he’s finally gone insane from the lack of sleep and he’d like to fall asleep right there, on the couch, right now. Maybe with Niall wrapped around him.

Instead, he settles against the hard line of the counter and bites his bottom lip to suppress more giggles.

“Of course,” 


End file.
